The Original Legend of one Hairy Pot
by Nauro
Summary: A wizard, a teacher and a prophesy. A journey, a battle and a duel. Follow our hero Hairy Pot, as he defeats the foe no one has ever faced before, while learning what is important in universe. Insanity, accidents and adventure - leave your common sense at the entrance and wash your ears. A complete, extremely old story of mine, that some have come to call 'charmingly retarded'.


**Disclaimer:** I own everything in this story. Everything. Won't try to make money out of it, though, would get rich too soon.

* * *

**The Original Legend of one Hairy Pot**

Sometimes, you just sit at an empty sheet of paper, your mind – a playground for stray thoughts, yet without a single idea how you should start. Everything is a distraction; your own breathing is messing with the concentration, even. But, the thoughts are already racing ahead of you, remembering everything about your life. Elps, orps, gnops, dwarps, centaups and all other magical creatures, everyone else is talking about are dancing around in your mid, whispering a thousand tales, but not a thing you need.

"Mr. Pot, however much I admire your ability to daydream, you should really get back to your work!" the Professor's voice was dripping with discontent and anger, his angry elpish gaze trying to pierce me through.

I quickly glanced at the instructions floating in the air, written with a magical chalk. They were glimmering in sky-blue, because all the white pieces of chalk had mysteriously disappeared in the last lesson's disaster. Then, still being glared at by the Professor, I finally got back to work.

This needed a lot of precision, so I took a deep breath and carefully folded the sheet in two. Then, checking the instructions every few seconds, I continued my slow progress. The elp finally decided to go and bother someone else.

It didn't take me more than an hour, honestly, to complete the masterpiece. It was a perfectly folded paper crane. White, with folding lines so precise and sharp you could use it to cut bread.

However, the elp didn't think that way. He hadn't forgotten me, and for some reason, came as soon as I leaned back to take a look at my crane from afar. His black long hair swung in a high arch as he suddenly stopped just before my desk.

"Mr. Hairy Pot!" he screeched my name at me. He _was_ famed for his screeching. "I don't really care about the spot you have on your forehead, your behavior is inexcusable! Inexcusable!" He started flailing his arms around so much, that his hair, dyed black because of the numerous blonde jokes every generation of wizards made about him, began swaying around from the gusts of wind. Honestly, it was like standing in front of a windmill. "Your work is constantly worthless and you don't understand the true meaning of Art and Design class in wizard's life!"

Had I mentioned this already? No, the Professor revealed it before I did – I am, in fact, a Wizard, and very proud of it. Well, but let us return to the shouting Professor and his flailing arms. His movements as erratic as before, he hit the paper crane and sent it flying into another student.

"You haven't even started working, and you dare to look at me! Your laziness has no bounds. No bounds! For today's work you get an 'I'!"

"I'm sorry, but," I started, struggling to remember the official grading system. "Doesn't 'I' stand for 'Impressive'?"

"NO!" he screamed at my face, visibly confused. "'I' stands for 'Imbecile'!"

Luckily, the end of the lesson finally coming to save me, I managed to escape from his mockery. Trying to ignore the elp, who was currently foaming from his mouth, I stood up, gathered my things and left, all the while trying not to make an eye contact. Usually I would have been more concerned with the marks, but as it was the last class of the year, no one really cared about the grades anymore. All of them were already in the books and not even a crazy elp could change them that day.

Everybody, high on the feeling of freedom that only a last class of the year can bring, went outside, in the pleasurable cool of the night. And what a night it was - the last day of the year in the stone dwarpen castle! To be fair, every dwarpen castle was made from stone, but not every one of them had lessons in it. In fact, no other dwarpen castle was used to teach magic - that's how special this one was. Many of us rejoiced the opportunity to finally escape the clutches of our Professors for the summer holidays - only the formalities held us in the castle still.

Slowly, the students gathered on the highest tower of the castle. Obviously, as all dwarpen castle, it had the deepest dungeon and the highest tower one over the other, but it wasn't like any of us cared about it then. Here, on the highest tower, as on every end of year, our headmaster was supposed to give a speech. He was slightly late, as always, with anything that had him ascend or descend the stairs. You see, our headmaster was the only bearded centaup in the world. How you all know, the centaup is a mix between a man and a unicorn, and unicorns have lots of troubles with the stairs. And, they never have beards. All school was full with pride of our headmaster's beard.

Unexpectedly, the one to emerge before us, wasn't the good old bearded centaup, but You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who. Horrific. He was wearing a spotless black suit, like a common non-magical person! If that wasn't enough, he chose to dress like a lawyer - the worst of their kind. It was the most repulsive thing we have ever seen in our lives.

We didn't have to cower for long - our beloved centaup was not far behind, and emerged, his glorious white beard mangled and wet with sweat.

"Don't think that I'm afraid of you!" he roared at the You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who. "I know your true name!"

"You won't pronounce it in time!" You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who wasn't even a bit fazed. "And I know yours too!"

And thus, we were treated with the rare sight of professional wizard duel. The one who managed to tell the oponent's true name, a thing that all wizards hid to the best of their abilities, would be a victor, and his opponent would be at his mercy. Both master wizards started talking so fast, that their names sounded like one, and I couldn't make sense which wizard was saying what.

"John - Uopotus - De - mov - Welling - ore"

To our terror, the first one to end the tirade was You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who. Centaup fell to his knees, a feat to be in awe of, seeing as his legs were inherited from the unicorn.

"I lost," he admitted. "You can kill me now."

All students, as wide eyed as humanly possible, were watching the beam that exited the You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who's magical briefcase. It was shining with all the colors of the rainbow, and was very slowly heading towards the centaup. We all held our breaths when the beam finally touched the centaup, to be more precise, it was his beard. Our headmaster let out as scream that was not a sound we expected a centaup could make and was gone from this world forever.

Then, You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who opened his briefcase once more, this time, launching a whole fleet of similar beams. Everybody froze in place, unmoving. Except me. I started running, in awe of the slowness of the beams - the slower spell indicated a more powerful caster, or so the hundreds old books (we used them in place of chairs in magical spelling classes) had claimed.

I had made it out the castle, when the first beam touched the first victim. With that scream, and others, soon joining it in the distance, I realised - You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who won. The school was his. Now, he could become the headmaster, as he had planned through all his life. A headmaster of the best magical school out of all schools in dwarpen castles, and free from the whining children.

I ran without looking back for quite a while - until I reached a city, actually. There, I found a park, and fell down out of exhaustion, hoping to be in the shade of the tree when I woke up.

I did actually wake up in the shade. However, there was a strange whispering near my face, that proved to be extremely annoying. "Wake up - you are our only hope."

I opened my eyes to see an orp staring right at my face. His clothes were ragged and dirty, and he was the reason of the shade - with all the yellow teeth and messy hair. He looked like he had just escaped the Mordorovich's junkyard - the smell was so horrible that all thought about sleeping disappeared in a second.

"Don't be afraid," he tried to calm me down his breath making my eyes water. "Don't cry. You are the last wizard in the world, not counting me and my old friend that I'm not going to talk about. You have the power to change everything, but you'll have to learn a few tricks of the trade for that. My name is Kbi van Oenobi, and I'm going to be your teacher."

"What?" was the best I could manage at the time.

"As I said before - relax. First, we'll try to enter the You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who's hiding place - the dwarpen castle. The only thing that's between us and victory is the fact that he was my student too, and knows my real name. But it's not going to be a problem - we are going to win. Oh, and this belonged to your father." He gave me a metal bar, that was around a foot length and as thick as two fingers. "Take it."

"What?" I repeated.

"This is a weapon. You know, you take it in your hand, and can swing it-"

"A weapon?"

"Don't interrupt. You swing it, and if you manage to hit someone in the head, they might die from it. Nevermind that - the important bit is that you have the weapon and now are able to follow me." He waved for me to follow and started to head down the road.

"But..." I didn't really know why I was bothering. "The castle is to the other side."

"I am your teacher, am I not? Follow me if you want to live - we have to find the transportation first."

"It's twenty minutes at most," I tried to change his mind - just think what others would assume when they noticed me walking after some orp that was smelling so much. Unfortunately, he didn't slow down much, and I had to follow him running. I managed to reach him just around the next corner, where he had already stopped the taxi. I was trying to stand slightly to the side of Kbi van Oenobi, but I still could hear him haggling for the price of the ride. He was trying to convince the taxi driver that it wouldn't be him that would pay him, but that the ride would be covered, by the United Universal Universe fund. It was apparent that it was all a glaring lie, and I was barely listening.

"My name wouldn't be Hans F. Alone, if I took the people with normal money," the driver was grinning. "This is the best deal anyone has offered me in my life. I agree."

Then, he helped Kbi to put me in the car, a feat that was managed easily as I was stunned by the driver's naiveté.

The ride was incredibly short, but funny, as the taxi managed to produce sounds I never believed were possible to make, and the driver was constantly arguing with a hairy gnope. The creature spent all his time in a specifically made hole so that he could reach the engine at any time. And he used every opportunity to do so. The gnope was in the middle of complex curse in a foreign language as we reached the dwarpen castle.

"Hans, follow me, Luke, you'll be guarding the taxi, and gnope will be repairing it." Kbi waved toward the castle.

"My name is not Luke," I protested. "I'm Hairy Pot. And you are not Hans teacher, but mine."

"Right." Hans was nodding. "I'm not going to go with you, old orp, however cute you smell. Just pay me, and I'm going to head off. I don't care if it's you or UUU, who pays me, but I want my money."

"But..." The orp started, and never finished.

It was the Art and Design teacher that interrupted our sophisticated conversation. He had a black cloak draped on his shoulders, and breathing heavily like he had asthma. Noticing me in the taxi, he screeched at me, not forgetting to breathe a hissing breath after each word. "Hairy Pot! You are the last living student and we need you! We are going to teach you, I the last living teacher, and you are going to be my student yet again. Join the Dark SAD and you will be the best student in the castle."

"Dark SAD?" I managed a whisper.

"Dark Side of Art and Design," Kbi van Oenobi answered. "You have to run, Pot! You mustn't have anything to do with Dark SADness, for us to have any hope at all!"

Could I object such wise advice? I strapped myself back to the seat as the old orp jumped out of the car, a square metal bar, looking alike the one he gave me, in hand.

Hans started arguing with the gnope, again, but at least he was pressing the pedals. "What do you mean there's no hyper-first gear? I'd be content with the second-gear! You're a gnope, do something gnopish and fix the thing!"

We were painfully slowly riding forward, as fast as a racing snail.

Behind us, near the dwarp castle, there was a loud shout. "Even if you strike me down, I will become more powerful than my mother has ever been!"

This brave shout was followed by a girlish scream.

"Well, lad, your old man has made his last mistake." Hans was trying to look saddened by the statement. "So, where to?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Wherever the You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who can't find me? If there is such a place, even."

"Lad, you need to travel to the south, to the true light."

"The light that was created by the gods?" I couldn't believe my eyes. "They talked about it in one of the classes I had. It's in the south?"

"Well, not exactly. It was created by some bloke named Edison. The true light I mean, is a Christmas tree in the country where it never snows. I'll give you a ride for free, because otherwise I'd have to pay for the old orp's death from my pocket - it's in my taxi license. So you won't tell anyone what we heard, and I'll bring you there for free, deal?"

"You think I have never seen electricity?" I huffed. "I'm a wizard, not a man from a stone age. Stop trying to trick me, and bring me somewhere I could hide.

"I know just the thing, then."

'Just the thing' proved to be a creepy looking hovel at the edge of the city.

"Here?" I asked.

"Yes. Here is the place you need. There lives a man, who goes by the name of Gendalp - he is very wise. Everybody call him Stone, because of his intelligence and achievements in Philosophy. Go and speak with him, maybe you'll like him."

Left with not much choice, I entered the hovel. There, I found an old man, who looked like he was just dragged from the huge lake of white dye. He was looking somewhat a bit left to my side, and, was already speaking. I started listening.

"I was hoping that you would arrive. Make yourself at home. I know everything you might need. If you want to defeat a Lord of Semi-Darkness you have to learn his true name. As you might know, every wizard has a true name, the one that gives power to the one who tells it fully. It is so since the oldest times, when the wizarding duel rules were created. There are three types of wizards. There are those who try to change their true name as much as possible, and are constantly found in the administration buildings, filling thousands of papers. Even if that method is a viable strategy, not many wizards manage to remember what their current name really is, or, worse, they go mad because of the bureaucracy involved. The second way is hiding your true name as much as possible. However, when a wizard never uses his true name, he is in danger of forgetting it, and the moment that happens he loses his power. The third way, the one used by truly powerful practitioners of the magic arts, have their names as long and complicated as possible. These names take a few minutes to pronounce, or, if they manage, even a few hours. This way, the wizard is almost guaranteed to win any duel he faces.

"I'm sorry," I tried to be polite, so I waited for him to take a deeper breath. "But I don't plan on confronting any Semi-Darkness Lords. you must be mixing me with someone else..."

He didn't listen to me, and continued. "Welcome. I was hoping that you would arrive. Make yourself at home. I know everything you might need. If you want to defeat a Lord of Semi-Darkness you have to learn his true name..."

I didn't listen further, realizing that it was something he never stopped repeating, never minding if anyone was even listening, nor stopping to answer any questions anyone might have. He was as useless as a stone in a boot, probably that was the origin of his name.

Outside I was greeted by a wrinkled gnope with indian clothes. Instead of a normal turban, he had a black scarf entwined around his head. One edge hung loose, at the height of his shoulder, easy to grab with his hand.

Gnope bowed, his turban almost touching the ground. "The prophecy has foretold that you are a classmate of the one they call the Lord of Semi-Darkness. We, the followers of the Semi-Darkness, are here for you to use."

"We?" I asked, seeing but a small gnope before me.

"I was referring to myself and my strangulation device, but there are more of us, yes."

"Strangulation device?"

He patted his turban. "Yes. Singing Night is my name, and I have gathered you an army. Let's go, we will show you."

Grabbing me, he started dragging me forward, towards another unknown destination. I felt like a ball in a pinball machine - there and back again. After half an hour of being gnope-handled, we arrived at a forest clearing, where, to my surprise, an army of elps were standing ready. Every single one of them looked exactly like the other. Each had a glittering trident in his arms.

"This is your personal crone army."

"Clone?"

"No, crone. Does it really matter to you? Give us a task, and we will do it. Order us, captain!"

"I don't have any orders," I muttered. "Well, it would be nice if you could kill the wizard in the dwarpen castle, You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who.

"Chief," gnope shook his head. "You have no experience in commanding armies, do you? No one commands using words - it's horribly outdated. Every commander uses those," he took out a simple device consisting of a single screen. "You simply touch the screen here, and mark all the chrones, and after pressing that button there, you issue them a march order. It's the newest fashion in all warfare."

"Oh." I managed as politely as I could, taking the tiny machine into my own hands. "Impressive."

"Now, the whole army is in your hands."

With the tactical display in my hands, we started moving. I figured that with all the crones at my command, we could probably get rid of You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who, and then I would be allowed to rest.

The crones, however, tried to be as clumsy as possible - they always found stray trees to walk into, or, were clustered in strange places, forming interesting forms on the screen, messing up with perfectly aligned formations.

After a while, I realized that I had been holding the device the wrong way, and instead of getting closer to the dwarpen castle, we were, actually, getting further and further. Almost panicking, I tried to find the stop button, and failing that, I had to watch the crones regrouping awkwardly for a couple of minutes. Only after they stopped, I placed a hand on my face - I should have simply issued an order to go in a different direction, then, they would have complied immediately, never mind that it would have been a lot more awkward.

"Others, in coordinates 4.815 42.2316," helpfully chirped the device.

Singing Night was there after a second. He wasn't even singing, when he noticed the letters on the screen, mirroring the warning message. "Chief, I believe we should meet the others eye to eye. I'll be guarding you."

I nodded at my knight, and he started humming from excitement.

The others appeared to be a strange band of people that met us head on. The first one of them was before them, other ones keeping some distance from him. And with reason - the man looked like he was from Scotland - with a skirt and huge sword, with so much hair on his legs that it would have been enough for four bears. The sword, he held high in his hand, not minding the wear and marks on it. His voice was as loud as a crowd of football fanatics.

"I am Kickman Barbarian!" He roared like a wounded bear. "You are in my way - if you don't move aside, I'll have to destroy you! I am immortal, and you can't do anything to me!" Here, his fingers gently touched the huge metal collar on his neck.

Singing Night whitened like the brightest day, and started whispering. "My strangulation device won't work against him. Everything is in your hands, chief."

And he told me the truth, as I still held the tactical device in my hands. Quickly selecting a couple of nearby crones, I was holding my finger over the attack button. Kickman didn't let me finish my thoughts about him, when he was again shouting so loud that I couldn't hear myself thinking.

"I have a barbarian's mind, pickpocket's strength and old man's dexterity! You are no match for me!"

"Had I a few good hand-holders, I would show him." Night was still nervous. "Now you're going to have to tackle him alone."

"I will not tolerate your presence any longer! I Kickman Barbarian, hereby call you to a duel to the death! Who wants to die first?!" And he crouched, preparing for a leap towards me and Night. At that very moment, my patience had died, and I pressed the attack button. The one with a note that the attack would be merciless and without turning back.

From the nearby bushes, screaming a battle cry ("Chronic Condition!") the crone army started their charge.

"You can't cut off a man's head with a trident!" the Kickman cried out again, laughing. "You lost this battle before it even started!"

With his last words, the nearest crone stabbed his leg with a trident. The trees shook with a pained scream of a little girl. It took me a good two seconds to realize that it belonged to the same loud mouthed man as before. Slowly, screaming as much as possible, the Kicking Barbarian left this world, stabbed to the death with three teeth.

"See," Singing Night was happy. "It was impossible for us to lose. He died squeaking as a pig."

"Excuse me," a man asked from further along. He, apparently, arrived together with the Kickman, but held back so much that I forgot about him, and a couple of others he had together with him.

It was a really colorful group. One had a pigs nose and spiders eyes, another was dressed in like a metal recycling bin, and the last one was blue. The man, who started the conversation, was wearing a blindfold over his eyes.

The one with spider eyes huffed. "I take offence to that last part - even with my grandmother being a true pig..."

"Quiet, Pigman-Spider," the first man interjected. "I'm the leader here."

I noticed a small bird, sitting on his shoulder, whispering something. Probably directions, as he turned a bit straighter towards us. "My name is Blind Baron, and this is my band of People-Y, you probably have heard about us?"

"What?" I went with my usual answer.

"Persons-Y is a non profit organisation that is fighting crime and mimes on the daily basis. We also tackle crises, like the one we are heading to prevent today."

"What?" Singing Night tried to impress me by repeatedly echoing my choice of words.

"You can see all of us here." He tried to point at his friends, but it was hard even with the assistance from his bird. "That one is Iron-Can, an infantile philatelist beggar, you have met the Pigman-Spider already, and there's also a Butterfly and the Invisible-Inaudible Women. We're not sure if they're there, to tell the truth, but there were four of them at first."

I followed his gesture, obviously not seeing anything there.

"We are looking for the crone army and their chief and want to bring them to justice. Sadly, I'm the only one who can recognize them by sight, but if I remove the blindfold and try to find them myself, innocents might suffer. Maybe you could help us find the crone army?"

"Of course," I smiled in my mind. "They are in the dwarpen castle, and their chief looks like a lawyer with a briefcase."

"Capital." The Blind Baron replied. "People-Y, follow me." And they were gone. Probably together with the women.

When they were gone so far that they couldn't possibly hear us, Singing Night bowed before me. It actually took quite a while as the Blind Baron was actually blind and had to follow the directions of the little bird, which, at least from the back looked a lot more like a tiny owl.

"Chief," he began, his turban touching the ground. "You have shown such art of deception, as I, the priest of the swindlers, can only bow before you. I am not worthy."

I looked uncomfortable.

"I would take my hat off for you, but I don't want to rebind the turban." He slowly stood up, the gnopish face mark staying on the ground. "You don't need neither my, nor the crone army's help. May the swindler luck be with you."

Gaping, I just watched as Night took away my tactical device, and manipulating it with tiny, gnopish fingers marched away, leaving me alone. Again.

However, I didn't even decide where I should go, when another gnope, this time, with green fur peeking from his ears, appeared as if from nowhere, stinking of dirt and swamps. Without waiting for a greeting or announcing anything himself, he darted past me, snatching my wallet with a movement of a master illusionist.

"Mine, mine," he ran away screaming, as fast as his little legs let him, with a dexterity that every gnope would be proud of.

The wallet held all my money and documents, so I didn't have time to decide anything else, but running after the little thief.

It took quite a while till I managed to reach him. He was, actually clutching my wallet near his heart and talking with a tree. Not the weirdest thing I have seen that day, though.

"Kbi, I don't believe he is the one."

The tree was silent.

"Kbi, he isn't the last hope, there's two others. He's the one with anger and confusion in his heart, like his father was."

The tree didn't answer that one, either.

"So, you think that you are ready?" He turned to face me, his green hair sticking out even more than before. "Everybody thinks that they are ready, when they are not. Do you know how many years I spent teaching wizards?"

"What? I didn't say anything, I'm here for my wallet. Would you give it back?"

He threw it right into my face, but luckily, I managed to catch it after it bounced off. Gnope was visibly disappointed.

"If you were a true wizard, you would have managed to say my true name and would have cut the wallet in half with a lightning." It was said with such a conviction - he believed that I would start to object, and then he would offer to teach me, or something.

"Good." I answered, and started going elsewhere.

The gnope started running after me.

"You can't do this!" he squeaked. "I'm master Iodine, the solution to any injuries you have, a cure for any disease, a source of hope for every Hairy Pot in the world."

Ignoring him, I continued on, while he was trying to convince me to turn back. However, I didn't listen to his pleads nor threats, and after a while, he was as tired as I was. "Go, then, I'm off to die alone in a hovel with no one to stand next to me when I die. No one to listen to the important warnings that I won't finish saying."

Needless to say, I didn't follow him.

My legs brought me to a bench in a park where I sat down to think. It was a bad situation, but there should have been a way out, right? Feeling something poking me in the side, I took out the bar Kbi had left me. It was silvery and felt heavier than I remembered. However, imagine my surprise, when I noticed letters on it.

"This bar is a property of half baron, do not touch without the special permit C-42."

And, on the other side there was a bit more important things written.

"You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who = York Orpheus Uopotus Delavega O'brian Nothingham Tyrep With Antonio Nevada Trueman Tomain Of Knottingness Not On Wellington When Harrison Ovidiumelopotilopoludontus"

It was the moment of truth. It was weird that You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who, or, to be more precise, York Orpheus Uopotus Delavega O'brian Nothingham Tyrep With Antonio Nevada Trueman Tomain Of Knothingness Not On Wellington When Harrison Ovidiumelopotilopoludontus chose a such a cover name. It had no connection to his real name, and was a sign of a madman. If I needed more signs to be sure.

With hope singing in my mind, I started running to dwarpen castle - I wanted this to end as quickly as possible, and I thought that staying longer would make me lose all the courage.

To my surprise, instead of a usually open canyon that I should have found going from the side I chose, was barricaded by enormous grey gates. They were open, but looked really formidable. Well, if the You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who wants to protect the entrance to the school lake, he can do whatever he wants while he is the headmaster.

Just at the gates, I was met with Art and Design teacher, who, apparently hadn't yet healed the asthma that was annoying him as much as me.

"Pot. I have news for you." He looked stressed. "They told me that I am your father."

"WHAT?!"

"But then, it came out that Enrique de'Servantess tricked me. You are not her son."

I took example from the tree that was conversing with Iodine.

"It turns out that you are not my son and I am not you father. Still, Freud'o, I'm going to bring you to the Emperor."

"I'm not Sigmund, my name is Hairy Pot." I couldn't hold the silence any longer.

"Verry well. I'll bring you to the headmaster, then. He will tell you who you are. And, maybe, you will get the chance to attend our school."

I wasn't resisting, as this was the way to find You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who. The climb up the stairs was very tedious, as there were hundreds of them. The fact that the headmaster's office was the only room that changed its place constantly made finding it a really long task. It probably took hours to find the blasted room, and I was swinging to the sides from exhaustion by the time I was shoved through a door inside.

Before me, there stood You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who. He was smiling.

"Pot, Pot, Pot. You will fail - I know that your true name ends with 'arry' and I have only one letter until the last light wizard is defeated. Even if in your travels you found out my true name, you won't manage to tell it first."

I took out the metal bar and tried. For me, time slowed, as I was reading the names as fast as possible, my hands sweating, and my eyes watering with all the nervousness of the wizard duel to the death.

All the while, You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who, looking calm as ever was trying out all the variants. "Qarry? Warry? Earry? Rarry? Tarry? Yarry? Uarry? Iarry? Oarry? Parry? Aarry? Sarry? Darry? Farry? Garry? Harry? Jarry? Karry!" He finished, victorious.

I hadn't even finished with Wellington. I lost. I fell on my knees and bowed down my head. You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who readied his briefcase, and...

Suddenly, I realized that there was no magically enforced compulsion for me not to move. I didn't even want to be on my knees. When this realization finally reached all the corners of my mind, the beam was already half-way. I jumped up, and moved to the side.

"When Harrison Ovidiumelopotilopoludontus!" I finished triumphantly.

But, there was no reaction. The true name didn't work.

You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who laughed. "I take off my hat to you, young Karry, for you have completed my full name. But, as you have just demonstrated before, the old rules are for the old men and fools, and I am neither. So, this duel will be resolved with pure magical power. And, apparently, I have a lot more of it.

Thinking that it was the end of my life, I froze in place frantically trying to remember anything useful we have learned in the classes, but my mind seemed empty. I couldn't fold him to death, could I?

Then, the door shattered to pieces and a headless body of the dark haired elp fell into the office. Well, he didn't exactly have hair as there was no head, but I recognised him from the clothes and the twitching arms.

After another second, the huge orp armed with an impressive bundle of hair that was growing everywhere, and holding a huge axe in his hands. That axe was a biggest axe I had seen in my life, and, I thought at that moment, that I would be having nightmares about it till the end of my days. The orp was actually our school's guard, the one usually staying in his small house in the nearby woods.

"YOU!" He was shouting louder than the Kickman. "YOU killed the CENTAUP! I won't forgive you!" With the last words, he launched a mad swing at the starring You-Don't-Want-To-Know-Who, splitting him in two halves with one strike. Then, pure madness glittering in his eyes, he turned towards me.

"What are YOU doing here?! It's summer holidays! Get out, or..."

I was outside at 'get', so I never knew what would have happened had I chosen to stay.

It was going to be a long and boring summer. Hopefully.

* * *

Just was writing an important chapter for FFF and remembered that I never posted this story. It's actually a couple of years old (at least five), but the translation into English is rather new.

Everything else I have is considerably less 'charmingly retarded' than this.


End file.
